


I will do what must be done

by iambicss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, BAMF Hermione Granger, Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Gang Rape, Hermione Granger-centric, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Nonverbal Communication, Powerful Harry, Powerful Hermione Granger, Powerful Ron Weasley, References to Shakespeare, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22317124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iambicss/pseuds/iambicss
Summary: /"Tell me a story."/ In a normal situation, she would have been ashamed of her pleading tone. But this was hardly normal. This was mad and horrifying and disgusting. But she had agreed to it, hadn't she?
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley
Kudos: 22





	I will do what must be done

She was just a child.

Not even out of teens yet, but on her shoulders rested the lives of hundreds of people. _I will do what must be done,_ she thought but, as her trembling fingers slowly found the edge of her sweat-covered jumper, she couldn't not feel the pitying stares of those whose lives her act would save. She would have liked some privacy, really, but it was not an option and she was not in a position to make any demands. 

_Harry is dead_. The thought crushed her stomach and she had to scrunch her face to prevent a tear from falling. _Do not show any weakness. Do not let them win._ Ron's soothing voice echoed in her mind. She lifted her jumper, tossed it on the ground, trying not to picture herself discarded that easily by the men - _no, the monsters_ \- who were leering at her, some actually laughing, others not quite smirking, but all had this spark of mirth in their eyes. _Disassociate from your body, 'Mione, it's like an exercice. Don't let them break you._ She almost grinned at the familiar sound of the ridiculous nickname he had dabbed her. He kept pronouncing it ' _mine_ ' just because he knew she hated that. She sent him a mental eye roll and the familiarity of the moment almost made her forget the situation. Almost. 

_Tell me a story_. In a normal situation, she would have been ashamed of her pleading tone. But this was hardly normal. This was mad and horrifying and disgusting. But she had agreed to it, hadn't she? 

Harry, Ron and her had stormed in Hogwarts, looking for the remaining Horcruxes but all they had found was an army. They had fought bravely, using the skills they had been honing for months, Stunning and maiming and killing because this was war and they didn't have time to play nice. The daily running had paid off. They would never have been able to hold their own for so long ten months ago. But then Voldemort had stepped in. Killing some of their classmates, who had been so stupid as to join them in their fight, with nothing more than a lazy twist of his wand. He had looked the epitome of power then.

The three of them had joined their wands, started chanting the incantation they had been working on day and night for weeks, sure of their success, persuaded he would fall, thus giving them access the castle and the Horcruxes, but their arrogance had blinded them. They were good, but he was better. The months they spent sweating and bleeding were nothing to the years he spent killing and learning. He swept Ron and her aside, leaving each of them surrounded by dozens of Death Eaters, leaving Harry alone with him. Yet, they were ready for this outcome.   
_Time for plan B, then._ Harry's darkly amused voice had rung in their heads and she had slightly twisted to the side while ducking, getting a perfect picture of her best friend as her adversaries received each other's spell square in the chest and fell, both bleeding profusely.   
He had looked glorious. But half a second later, his head had been on the ground, his body still standing, his silly smirk forever imprinted on his face and in her mind. The shock had numbed her senses. Her lost gaze had wandered to where Ron was standing. He had still been fighting, his red hair matching the blood on the damp concrete. An arm had snaked its way around her middle. She saw her wand had rolled away from her, so she caught the fingers, broke them, then the wrist, before dancing around the man until she was at his back, and snapped his neck swiftly. She had five more of the bastards down before she heard Ron’s yell. It had all seemed more real then. She tried to find his eyes and comfort him, but a slicing hex caught her in the thigh and blood oozed out of the wound even as another spell hit her head, knocking her unconscious. 

She had woken up to Ron's panicked voice inside her head to find her arms tied to chains hanging from the Great Hall’s ceiling, students and teachers on her left and right, Voldemort and his goons in front of her and Ron at their feet, a wand at his temple and his limbs bound. The madman had delivered a typical bad guy's speech, threatening to kill everyone if she didn't spread her legs like an obedient whore for his "soldiers". She hadn't had much of a choice, but she didn't think it would be that difficult. The humiliation, combined with the sheer pain in her thigh made her want to crumble to pieces, but she tucked it away in the to-deal-with-later part of her brain. She had been stripped of her weapons and as much as she would enjoy killing one of the men around her with her bare hands, it would mean ending Ron’s life and she wasn't ready to lose her two brothers in the same - what? Hour? Day? 

The blood loss made her sway as she kicked off her shoes and socks. Feeling the cold concrete under her bare feet grounded her to a reality she desperately wanted to escape, so she begged Ron for a story again. 

_Once upon a time, there was a warrior._ She let his words wash over her as she slipped out of her shirt, feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin. _She was lethal, but her foes and friends alike saw nothing but her pretty face._

 _Really, Ron?_ She barely restrained herself from snorting. He laughed in her head before huffing and starting again. 

_Once upon a time, in Scotland, a Lord won a battle. He was skipping merrily back home with his trusted friend at his side, when three figures appeared, and in vague terms told him he shall be king hereafter._ Hermione unbuttoned her jeans, letting them slip down her bruised and aching legs. _The Lord went back home and told his wife of the news. The Lady, drunk on the fleeting image of the power to come, orchestrated the murder of her king. They were thus royalty, and the blood on their hands accumulated when the trusted friend became a liability._ She unclasped her bra, and her foes' catcalls were drowned by the story. _They say power is a drug, and the Lady could not master it. A walking slumber betrayed her and a conspiracy started against her husband, the traitor. Her death reached him when his enemies did._ She almost didn't hear the insults when her last piece of clothing pooled around her feet. _An old friend killed him when no one else could, and his head on a spike was mounted. Thus his foes mastered the power he had only been able to dream of -_

The sharp sting of a large hand against her cheek dragged her from the dreamlike state she had been in. Her eyes blinked open and she caught the wrist before the second slap could hit her. She was about to absent-mindedly break the fingers when a muffled scream reminded her Ron needed her to stay calm. 

Her body suddenly felt cold, and the awareness of standing naked in a hall full of people flooded her. She tipped her chin up, defying, and tried to go back to that safe haven Ron’s word had guided her to, but the rough hand squeezing her bum made disassociating so much more complicated. A booming voice told her to get down on her knees. Gulping and trembling, she obeyed, hating herself for letting them make her that vulnerable. The man standing before her shifted his weight and she found herself staring into Ron's face. It was scrunched in a frown, his eyes darting back and forth between the door, the Death Eaters, and her, his mouth set in a thin line. His whole body was tense and blood was pouring from his left shoulder. He nodded slightly when he caught her staring. An encouragement. Because there was nothing they could do but live through whatever was sent their way.

Then he was out of sight and her vision was overwhelmed by men stroking themselves to life around her. She could so easily lash out, kill them, with her body as her only weapon. But she had countless lives on her shoulders so she wouldn't.

_I will do what must be done._

They thought they could get to her by humiliating her. They thought abusing her body would break her spirit. They thought they were better than her because their ancestors had magic and hers didn't. 

She would prove them wrong. She would kill them all, but for now, she would behave.

_I will do what must be done._

So she spread her legs. 

_I will do what must be done._

And when they were done, when they discarded her like she had her jumper, when she was left bloody and bruised and oh so dirty, the only reaction they had got from her had been one single tear when they ripped her from the inside.

One single tear which held all the weight of the world.

But she wasn't broken, oh no.

_I did what had to be done._


End file.
